Of Slugs and Dreck
My Butterfly in the Forest
So I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. You know, the type that makes you sleep for twelve hours at a time… or not be able to sleep for days.
Things have been improving a bit, thankfully. I find myself wanting to live again, instead of just existing. Just needed a little push. (I’ll get back to that thought in a moment…)
So, I’m into houseplants lately. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t had any in such a long time, due to the fact we’ve always had cats. Cats and houseplants don’t mix. The greenery gets gobbled, and sometimes it gets revenge by poisoning the feline.
Anyway, back to the story at hand. So I bought some various cacti and succulents on clearance at the local Wally. While repotting them, I noticed a slug.
Now, back in happier days, when I tended large gardens, I paid my kiddos a nickel a slug. Yes, I was a destroyer of the slimy sluggeroos.
“Oh?” I chuckled. “Looky what’s in the pot here.”
My girls obliged, then my older two gave each other that look, you know, that ‘Mom’s loosing it again’ glance. But my youngest had a totally different response.
“Ohhhh! How cute! Is it a boy or a girl? Can I keep it?”
Um…
After about ten minutes she had torn down the Mommy defenses, and we now have a pet… slug.

Anyway, back to what made my day. What lifted my cloud of funk. What inspired me to invest more minutes on Medium.
Gutbloom followed me. That dear lover of dreck. I was tickled pink. It inspired me.
So at work, I had the privilege of assisting a resident who didn’t quite make it to the lou. She was quite embarrassed, so I tried to lighten the mood by teaching her a new word for what was now all over her bathroom. Dreck.
That dear 94 year old dementia sufferer scowled at me. Then started giggling.
“Dreck?” she rolled the word off her tongue in a most delightful way.
“Yes, dreck,” I assured her as my gloved hands washed up her legs.
“Dreck. Dreck. Dreck! Dreck! DRECK!”
She was really into it now. Snorting laughs. The word echoed right out of her bathroom and down the hall.
The next day, the kitchen treated the residents with some substance that was supposed to be a stuffed pepper.
“This stuff is dreck!” she shouted to no one it particular.
Heads turned. An elderly gentleman tried the word out. “Dreck?”
One of our more senile residents decided she loved it. She made an impromptu song using the word, to the tune of Jingle Bells.
My heart soared.
Dearest Gutbloom, you are an inspiration to the demented seniors I assist. I hope you wear the title of Dreck-giver with the honor bestowed on it.
I will forever raise my mug of cocoa to you, and all my fellow Mediumites.
Cheers!